


pink

by montecarlos



Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, Hair Dyeing, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Making Out, Stupid Boys Do Stupid Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: Cotton Candy Pink, the label reads.“Are you sure that this is a good idea?” Maverick asks, raising an eyebrow as he glances at the bottle that Fabio bought a few days ago. “I mean, most people are shaving their head,”
Relationships: Fabio Quartararo/Maverick Viñales
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	pink

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this more or less in one sitting as a result of Fabio's instagram photos of the pink hair. It started out as just a fun fic about Fabio's pink hair and well, two horny men in lockdown? What else is gonna happen tbh? I've never bleached my hair in my life (well not by myself, in quarantine) so I'm claiming somewhat of artistic licence on this one, and I lowkey flaked out on the actual sex but I just had to get this out of my system. 
> 
> Thank you to J as always. Hope you all enjoy this one! :)

_ Cotton Candy Pink, _ the label reads.    
  
“Are you sure that this is a good idea?” Maverick asks, raising an eyebrow as he glances at the bottle that Fabio bought a few days ago. “I mean, most people are shaving their head,”   
  
“You want me to shave my head?” Fabio levels him with a wide smile and Maverick ignores the twisting sensation in his stomach.    
  
They’ve been holed up together at Fabio’s apartment since the country decided to go into lockdown, with Maverick’s own apartment springing a water leak and leaving him homeless for an undisclosed amount of time. Fabio, being the nice guy that he was, had graciously offered his spare room to the Spaniard. Maverick knows he should have said no. Being in such close proximity makes it harder for him to hide the blossoming crush he has for the younger man, and Fabio walking around shirtless definitely wasn’t helping matters.    
  
Maverick can feel his cheeks turn pink. “No, not really. I like your hair,” He closes his mouth before he can say anything else incriminating.    
  
Fabio grins widely. “So will you help me?”   
  
“I’ve never dyed anyone’s hair before,” Maverick says, looking down at the bottle again. He’s never felt the urge to put big blonde streaks through his own dark hair when he was younger, they would have just been hidden by the helmet anyway and he had laughed at Jorge’s blatant attempts to carve a new identity for himself when he had turned up in Spain with the stupid red streak down the middle of his hair. “What if I mess it up?”   
  
Fabio laughs. “You won’t mess it up. Besides, I’ve been bleaching my hair for years. We’re just adding an extra colour,”   
  
“Are you sure about this?” Maverick worries his lip. “I mean-”   
  
“I’m sure, Mack. So, will you help me?”   
  
“Sure,”    
  
Fabio’s smile grows wider and Maverick wonders what he’s gotten himself in for. It only worsens when Fabio reappears in the lounge shirtless, a towel thrown haphazardly over his shoulders.   
  
“What are you doing?” Maverick all but squeaks.   
  
“Well, I don’t want to get pink dye all over my shirt,” Fabio laughs, not noticing the dark eyes of the Spaniard roving over his chest, his cheeks turning as pink as the dye he’s going to use. “We need to bleach first,”   
  
Despite never bleaching his hair before, Maverick is soon talked through the steps of preparing the solution, constantly flickering his gaze over to Fabio to make sure that he’s doing it properly. The last thing he wants is to do it wrong and burn the Frenchman’s hair off.    
  
“You’re a natural at this,” Fabio says, watching Maverick carefully stir the mixture. “Now we get it on,”   
  
“W-what?” Maverick stutters out, wide-eyed.    
  
“We put it on my head, Mack. But not on the sides, okay?”    
  
“Are you sure?”   
  
Fabio laughs, shaking his head. “I’m sure. It’s fine. I do this once a month,”   
  
Maverick raises an eyebrow. “Seems like a lot of effort,”   
  
“Well, not all of us are blessed with bouncing, beautiful hair like you,” Fabio teases, not noticing Maverick’s face turn bright red, his hand tightening around the towel on his shoulders. “Now, c’mon, stop stalling,”   
  
Maverick takes a deep breath. “What if your hair falls out?”   
  
“Well then, I guess I’ll be rocking the bald look for a while. It won’t fall out, trust me,”

It’s easy enough to apply the bleach once the first stroke of the brush hits Fabio’s hair. Maverick works in silence, his tongue poking out between his lips as he slowly moves through the dirty blonde strands, noting the obvious light brown regrowth at the roots.    
  
“Are you sure you aren’t a secret hairdresser?” Fabio breaks through the silence, his eyes watching Maverick’s hands work through his hair. “You’re a little too good at this,”   
  
Maverick laughs. “No, never. I’ve never dyed my hair before,”   
  
Fabio raises an eyebrow. “Really? I bet you’d make a very pretty blonde,”   
  
“I-” Maverick begins, busying himself with the bleach, feeling his cheeks burn. “I never thought about it,”   
  
“I think you’d look hot,”    
  
Maverick’s hand stills on Fabio’s hair. He steps back, the sound of the brush hitting the empty bowl the only sound that echoes through the air. “I think we’re all done,”   
  
Fabio’s eyes flicker away from the older Spaniard to examine himself in the mirror. “It looks good,” He says slowly, smiling as he looks at Maverick’s work. “And now we wait about twenty minutes for it to work its magic, fancy a game of FIFA?”   
  
Maverick chuckles. “Only if you promise not to pick Juventus again,”   
  
“I make no promises,” Fabio waggles his eyebrows as he picks up his controller.    
  
“Is that your special controller?” Maverick teases.   
  
“Why? You jealous?” Fabio sticks out his tongue, and Maverick has no response. 

They’re deep into their third match - the tiebreaker one, Maverick had taken the first round and Fabio the second - when Fabio glances down at his watch and curses, throwing his controller to one side. However, before Maverick can say anything, Messi about to score an amazing goal without Fabio present to defend the shot, he hears the shower start up.   
  
“I need to wash the bleach out,” Fabio calls out, before Maverick hears the shower door slam shut. He pauses the game and leans back against the couch cushions, trying not to think about what Fabio had said earlier.    
  
_ I think you’d look hot _ .    
  
Maverick had never seen any other signs of Fabio liking men - certainly he had close relationships with people like Tom, and a certain aversion to the pretty girls who frequented race weekends, focusing only on the race and the bike. Fabio was probably trying to break the silence between them, Maverick reasons as he pushes a hand through his hair. He can still hear the water running from the bathroom and he can’t stop himself thinking about Fabio in the shower, water running over his tattoos, his fingers slowly dancing over his muscular abdomen, dancing down to the apex of his thighs -    
  
“Mack?” Fabio’s voice wrenches him from his thoughts and he freezes at the sight of the Frenchman standing in front of him, wearing nothing but a pair of bright pink boxer shorts, the towel pulled around his neck, his bright blonde hair wet and fluffy. “You okay?”   
  
“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” Maverick says quietly.    
  
Fabio grins as he pulls the towel up to rub at his hair. “Well, it didn’t fall out,”   
  
“It looks bright,” Maverick bites his lip as he tries not to look at Fabio’s naked torso, still glistening with shower water.    
  
“Not as bright as the pink will be,” Fabio says, and Maverick tries not to watch his ass as he moves over to the kitchen counter to pick up the bright pink bottle. “I think it’s going to turn my bathroom pink,”   
  
“You could just leave it blonde if you wanted,”   
  
“Where’s the fun in that?” Fabio laughs. Maverick remains silent as he watches the younger man twist the cap off and examine the inside of the bottle. “This is _ really  _ pink,”   
  
“You’re going to look like a Barbie,” Maverick teases.    
  
Fabio pouts. “What’s wrong with that?”   
  
“Nothing, nothing,” Maverick says quickly, certain his cheeks are as pink as Fabio’s hair is going to be. “Lets do it,”   
  
Putting the pink dye on is a much messier affair than the bleach, even with Maverick wearing the gloves the kit helpfully provided. He massages the dye through Fabio’s hair as the instructions said, working meticulously. He tries to keep his eyes focused on the fluffy hair, and not on Fabio who closes his eyes at the sensation of Maverick’s fingers against his scalp.    
  
“I changed my mind,” Fabio murmurs. “You definitely must have done this before,”   
  
Maverick shakes his head. “Never,”   
  
Fabio bites back a moan as Maverick drags his fingers through the front of his hair. “That feels amazing,”   
  
Maverick says nothing in response, continuing to distribute the colour silently. “It’s going darker pink,” he says, trying to ignore the stirring in his lower thighs at the sound Fabio is making.    
  
Fabio glances at himself in the mirror, his eyes roving over the pink mess that is enveloping his head and he laughs at the image. “I look ridiculous,”   
  
“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything-” Maverick can’t stop himself from ribbing on the younger man.    
  
Fabio folds his arms and pouts. “Careful, Mack. If you carry on insulting me, I’m going to hold you down and dye your hair,”   
  
“I don’t think I could carry off the pink like you,” Maverick slowly moves around to Fabio’s front, surveying his handiwork. However, he freezes at the sensation of Fabio’s hand curling around his waist, pulling him closer. He looks down at the pink haired man, his lip caught between his teeth, Fabio’s fingers slowly tracing over his t-shirt.    
  
“Fabio, you’re going to get me covered in pink-” He begins, watching Fabio lick his lips slowly.    
  
“And what’s the problem with that?” Fabio teases.    
  
“I-”   
  
“I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me for the past two weeks, I’ve been waiting for you to make your move,” He all but purrs and Maverick feels his mouth go dry. “I thought at first, you just didn’t like me in that way-”   
  
“Fabio-” Maverick begins. “We shouldn’t,”   
  
“Why not?” Fabio’s tone is somewhat defiant but the shock of pink hair makes his expression comical. “We’re both adults,”   
  
“You don’t like me that way,”   
  
Fabio raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been flirting with you since we’ve been locked down-”   
  
“What?”    
  
Fabio chuckles. “You’re so dense, Mack. Do you want me to make it more obvious?”   
  
Before Maverick can answer, Fabio answers him with his lips. They’re softer than Maverick imagined, Fabio’s hands moving to slowly cup Maverick’s face, his thumb brushing softly against Maverick’s ear. Maverick loses himself in the kiss, moaning lightly as Fabio’s tongue traces over the crease of his lips, not realising that his hands have moved to press against Fabio’s bare chest. The younger man startles at the sensation, the two forgetting that Maverick’s hands are still covered by the gloves, two bright pink handprints now decorating the Frenchman’s pale skin.    
  
Fabio chuckles at the handiwork. “It’s not the marking I wanted,” 

Maverick can feel the blush dance across his cheeks as Fabio grins, slowly pulling the gloves from Maverick’s hands. Maverick almost protests as the younger man drops them on the floor, probably ruining his white floor, but the Frenchman fixes him with a look as he pulls him in again. This time, the kiss is hungrier, wetter and more desperate. Maverick ends up in Fabio’s lap, his ass brushing against the evident bulge in front of the pink haired man’s boxer shorts. Fabio only grins against his lips, thrusting up against Maverick, making the older man groan into his mouth, his hands fumbling at Fabio’s back, his fingernails raking over the pale skin.    
  
“How long until the dye comes off?” Maverick manages to murmur out between kisses.    
  
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Fabio replies, drawing their lips together again, one of his hands slides into Maverick’s thick dark hair, and he tugs on it a little too hard - forcing Maverick to gasp, Fabio’s tongue invading his mouth, the other dances down over Maverick’s back to slowly cup at the Spaniard’s ass. “Wanted to do this for so long,”   
  
“Yeah?” Maverick murmurs as he draws back, his gaze unwavering as he takes in the sight of Fabio, all swollen lips and bright-pink hair. “Me too,”   
  
Fabio grins widely as he leans in, his lips slowly dancing over the edge of Maverick’s jawline, the older man’s stubble tickling at his skin as he dips lower, smirking as Maverick gasps heavily at the sensation as Fabio’s lips move over the sensitive skin of his neck.    
  
“Fabio-”   
  
The pink haired man smiles against the skin for a second, watching Maverick come apart in his arms, the older man’s mouth falling open as Fabio’s teeth scrape over his tanned skin. Fabio’s name falls from his lips again and Fabio bites down harder, certain to leave a bruise, before his tongue slowly dances over Maverick’s skin as though to sooth the sensitive spot.    
  
He slowly draws back, hazel eyes meeting dark brown ones, still panting from the exertion as he takes in the sight of Maverick, all debauched and messy hair, a smudge of pink hair dye on the side of his face.    
  
“You’ve got pink on you,” Fabio says with fondness, his finger tracing over the streak, stark against Maverick’s pale golden skin.    
  
“So do you,” Maverick replies, his hands slowly moving over the handprints he’s left on the Frenchman’s skin.    
  
“Why don’t we continue this in the shower whilst I get this off?” Fabio says, his tongue dancing over his lips.    
  
“Thought you’d never ask,”    
  
The shower takes longer than usual, but it’s to be expected - they end up spending less than ten minutes rinsing off Fabio’s hair and the rest of the time, Maverick was pressed up against the wall, his hands twisting into the dark pink hair as Fabio’s lips danced over his wet skin. They eventually manage to get out of the shower and Maverick watches as Fabio dries himself off, watching the water droplets slowly fall down the tattoos that dance over the pale skin, but it’s when Fabio’s towel falls from his head and Maverick finally gets a good look at his handiwork.    
  
“Well, it’s not cotton candy pink,” He says as he stands on his tiptoes to curl his arms around Fabio’s shoulders, his lips pressing soft feather kisses against Fabio’s cross tattoo. “But it’s still hot,”    
  
Fabio grins widely, turning his face slightly to claim Maverick’s lips, the older man’s hands moving to dance over the two pink handprints that wouldn’t come off in the shower. “Still think you should consider going blonde,”   
  
“I’ll think about it,” Maverick says as he returns the kiss. 


End file.
